Chilling Warmth
by frozenmango
Summary: In which Mari thinks about the feeling she lost with the people special to her.


**AN: Little drabble I needed to get off my chest. Mari angst was too much, especially after episode 8. Which is something you should watch before reading this, probably. Has lowkey minor spoilers.**

 **Have fun, anyways.**

 **Ciao. c:**

* * *

Mari hated the cold.

She hated the cold very much, and dreaded winter. She hated it when the rain became too much during typhoon season, and the wind held a chilling bite that stopped everyone from going outside. She hated it when the ocean would throw itself at her feet unexpectedly, and the goosebumps on her arms would stand at attention as she squealed and ran away. She hated it when, on the many vacations she would take to America, the snow would kiss her face with its wet lips, leaving her cheeks colored red like the fireplace she wished to be in front of.

But despite hating the cold, she still managed to find a little place in her heart to fall in love with winter.

She loved spending time with her father and her mother, and even with distant relatives she didn't even knew existed until the holidays. She enjoyed the warmth of the fireplace, the snugness of a woolen blanket, the rich flavor of hot chocolate. She loved it all….

But nothing could compare to the amazing warmth she felt with Kanan and Dia.

She loved that feeling that bloomed in her chest every time she laughed at their joke, starting out as a little flame that soon grew into a wildfire, engulfing every part of her body, especially her sides, as she doubled over with tears in her eyes. She loved the warmth she felt when she stood beside Dia, the overenthusiastic idol-admirer whose energy was akin to a dancing torch and crackled like firecrackers when she spotted a Christmas edition of an idol album book. She loved the heat that radiated from Kanan's warm body as they pulled each other into a tight embrace, sharing scalding body heat that it threatened to scorch Mari's pale skin. She loved lying next to them, staring up at the ceiling as if they were basking on the sand looking up at the sky, and they would speak of their futures as school idols. She loved the feeling of the other two girls' lips against her cheek, searing their brand on her, telling the world that she belonged to Dia and Kanan, and only to Dia and Kanan.

When she left, Mari longed for that feeling to return.

She thought it would, too. She thought, that even after two years, that feeling would still be there. She thought that the two girls she grew up with, the two girls she loved with all her being, would take her into her arms like the love-sick puppy she felt whenever she laid her eyes on them.

But they didn't. Instead they acted cold and walked away, a chilly breeze in their wake.

And Mari hated the cold.

She thought they would bathe her in warm waters of their love, and they would sail across the choppy ocean of life as if it was nothing more than a bumpy car ride. She thought she would be able to join their crew and explore the wonders of the world together, holding each other's hands, hands that she loved the fingers of when they were fast asleep.

But they had abandoned ship long ago, and Mari was alone in a raft, floating, drifting, on a piece of wood with half of her body submerged in freezing waters.

And Mari hated the cold.

She thought that when she spoke to Dia that one night, that it would, by the strangest notion of fate and destiny, take a turn and they would share lukewarm conversations about their futures. She thought that Dia would stare at her with all the care and admiration in the world, and that warm, fuzzy feeling would return.

But Dia didn't, and instead stared at Mari with the iciest stare her minty eyes could muster.

And Mari hated the cold.

She thought that Kanan would run into her outstretched arms, colliding into her and showering her in that heat Mari yearned for since their failure as idols. She thought that Kanan would scald her skin with her heat, and become her torch of comfort and support in the cold, night sky.

But Kanan didn't and instead walked away with words that stabbed Mari in the chest like an icicle, and froze her spirits and determination.

And Mari hated the cold.

So Mari stood there, clutching herself feebly as she tried to recreate the heat she felt with Dia and Kanan. Her wails were distorted versions of laughter of the past, escaping her lips in brief, momentary clouds. Her skin sizzled under the buffeting needles of the rain and ocean as she stood alone.

She shivered, cold and alone, when she realized that the only thing warming her were the hot tears spilling from her eyes that resembled the color of King Midas' statues.

Mari hated the cold.

The only thing she hated more than the cold was being alone.


End file.
